


Hangover

by Ex_Hominem



Category: ACCA13区監察課 | ACCA 13-ku Kansatsuka
Genre: But that doesn't stop the ship, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jean is still in high school, M/M, One Shot, Slightly out of character but you need to look at the fic's setting...., Underage Drinking, Underage because Nino isn't actually a high schooler, drunk jean, spoilers for episode 8, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 12:21:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10189799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ex_Hominem/pseuds/Ex_Hominem
Summary: The first time Nino discovers that Jean is a weak drinker is the first time his friend's composure shatters.





	

Nino walks in to the Otus siblings' apartment one night. He's come to deliver something, and is mildly surprised to find the front door unlocked. He'll have to scold Jean later. He must have forgotten, considering the ones who usually locked the doors every night were....

"Jean, it's late. Lotta's alseep, why are you-"

He walks into the dark living room, taking in the sight. Jean sits upright on the couch, silent as a stone. His hands clumsily hold a wine glass. The tv table has a half empty bottle.

Nino smiles wryly, "Jean, you're underage, you shouldn't be drinking." Part of him wonders how such an upright student suddenly decided to sit down and empty an entire bottle of liquor. 

The blonde is silent, contemplating. He swirls his glass before setting it on the table, sighing. His face is red, his breathing uneven. Drunk. 

"Jean, let's get you to bed."

"It's a strange feeling."

Nino casually takes off his coat and hangs it on a peg, "What is?"

"Realizing that I'll never see them again."

Nino grows still. He glances at the wine bottle. So that's why.

"It's a strange feeling," Jean continues, a strange distant smile on his face, "Realizing that you'll never see them again. At first it felt like they were just tourists still on a trip. The distance wasn't unfamiliar, people travel all the time."

"Jean..."

"Then it started to occur to me that I was expecting them to come back, like they would be arriving in a train station. The feeling of them not being here wasn't empty, because I didn't feel like there was an absence. I expected it to be filled, one day, one week. A month from now."

Jean turned his head to regard his friend. The ghost of a bitter smile crossed his face. Nino had never seen that expression before, not once in the years he had watched over Jean. The detached face of a relaxed student was cracking.

"Only they're never coming back, are they? No matter how far I travel, no matter how loudly I call for them... Even if I covered the entire universe, I will never ever be able to touch them again. No matter how much I want-" Jean pauses. He takes a steadying breath, his expression thoughtful again.

"It's a little humbling. Not that I ever wanted to be king or anything."

Nino's finger twitches.

Jean looks down with a smile. A look of mild surprise springs from his face, "What an odd feeling, I must be drunk. I don't know what to do with it."

"Jean, what are you taking about?" Nino's voice comes out weary. He feels like he's in the middle of a mine field, or watching a delicate glass on the verge of tipping off a balance.

"Nino, what is your impression of me?"

Impression? From when? When Nino the king's eyes first saw the country's prince as a bright eyed child in his mother's arms, or when Nino the student first became friends with a blue eyed classmate sitting by the window?

He chokes his words very carefully, but also with a degree of fondness, "You're aloof, but very calming."

Jean stared down at his hands, "Then why do I feel like breaking something?"

Nino stills. A minefield. The glass tipped again.

"I can't deal with this. So badly, I want to break-"

Jean chuckles softly, and Nino is actually concerned now. He's drunk he tries to reason, it's fine, he'll be fine.

No, he's not.

"This world, I don't understand it anymore. I don't know what to do with myself. I'm thinking too irrationally, this isn't like me," Jean pulls at his hair, "My head hurts," His voice is taut, it cracks, "I don't know what to do."

Nino is at his side in an instant, "Jean, you don't have to do anything." He grips Jean's elbow and gently coaxes him closer. He tucks his chin on his friend's head, teeth clenched.

He thinks of his smiling father, the laughing princess, her gentle husband, then the blood on the train, the broken camera, Jean's face when he came to school the next day-

Nino hugs Jean until it feels like he might break him. Tentatively, his friend brings his arms up as well, circling Nino's waist and pulling him closer.

"Don't go," Jean's voice is muffled. Nino is mildly surprised. Jean must be really drunk, "Please...you're my only friend. You can't leave too."

"I'm not going any where," Nino promises. Always. I'll always be with you. I promised.

Jean's grip tightens, "Stay close to me."

Nino's heart clenches. I have to protect him. Whatever he needs, I'll fulfill it. Not just because my father did, but because, because... I'm his friend. I'm his only friend, no, because who else is here? He remembers leaning against the fence, watching a young boy bound excitedly to his mother. Who else will protect him? I don't trust the world, this world is cruel and he-

"Jean..." Nino breathes. He shuts his eyes tightly. I really shouldn't. Father only wanted me to watch him. I can't get too close. This isn't what he would do.

"Nino."

And that's all it took.

Nino reaches out. His fingers hesitantly brushes Jean's cheek, then he holds firmly, bringing his nose to Jean's.

"I'm here."

He presses their mouths together and they mold perfectly.

Their fingers entwine.

"I'm here. I'm here," he repeats between breaths. He presses closer and softly nips at Jean's bottom lip. His friend's lips clumsily slip open, and Nino enters. It's gentle, wet, and warm. Nino tastes wine, and a subtle sweetness that makes his heart flutter.

"I'm right here with you."

He kisses Jean's cheeks, noticing that they are wet. He kisses Jean again, and this time he's more insistent. His fingers tangle in the blonde's hair, pulling his head back. One hand gently presses against the base of Jean's throat.

A low whine escapes Jean's mouth. Nino wonders if the sound was a half choked sob or unsteady laughter.

"Nino, I can't, I cant," Jean brings a hand to his eyes, "Why aren't they here? No matter how much I want to.... just a few days ago I could- they were here. They were here they were here," his chest heaves, "Nino, what do I do?"

Nino gently pries Jean's hand from his face. He kisses each individual finger then leans in to clean up the steaks of moisture on his friend's cheeks, "Let go," and he pulls Jean closer. His friend's back is suddenly so small. It trembles, hunched over as if on the verge of breaking.

"Jean," Nino's voice is steady and clear. He closes his eyes. He remembers apple cake on his kitchen table, picking it apart with his father who laughs and shows off his photographs.

"The most we can do is remember them and continue to live. You don't need to explore the entire universe, just come home every day."

Jean's shaking stills. The room is silent, save for the quiet noise of the outside city. A low sigh emits from his nose and his grip loosens.

"It's not fair."

"I know," Nino says simply, "But at least we can remember them. And you're not alone. You have Lotta, and you have me."

"...Nino, thank you."

The journalist smiles, "What for?"

Jean laughs, his back shakes again, but this time it's lighter, and it fills Nino's heavy heart, "Ahhh, I shouldn't have drunk that much wine. This is embarrassing. You're never going to let me live it down, are you?" His voice is growing heavier. The toll of the alcohol must be approaching, "the 'aloof and calming' friend is now bawling all over your shirt."

"What a shame."

"That was my first kiss you know," he smiles with the flamboyance of a drunk.

"Hmmm," Nino muses. He licks his lips, "We'll probably forget in the morning and _maybe_ I won't black mail you. But you know... if you ever need to cry again, we can get drunk as many times as we need to."

"You're a terrible friend," Jean's words are slurring now. His head slips from the side of Nino's face on to his shoulders, the drunken shade of pink still evident on his cheeks.

Nino laughs.

"I do what I got to do."

He leans against the couch, staring at the dark ceiling. He gently lifts an arm and wraps it around Jean's shoulders. He stays there until he hears Jean's breath steady, and even then he remains on the couch, his legs in a messy tangle with Jean's, holding his friend until he too falls asleep.

****

"Augh, my head hurts," Jean sits with his face flat on the table. His hand gropes for the coffee, "I need a smoke."

"I don't think you should drink and smoke so much in one sitting, Jean."

"Eh," Jean makes a noncommittal sound. Then he looks up, "Hey Nino?"

"Mm?"

"We didn't do anything stupid last night, did we? I woke up with my face in your shirt." 

Nino slowly sips his coffee. He wishes he hadn't, because it's washing down the taste of liquor and a lingering sweetness that makes him smile.

He licks his lips before resting his chin on his hands, "I don't think so. Let's go drinking again some time later, Jean."

The blonde smiles. He raises his coffee mug in a mock salute, "You're a terrible friend."

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
